


The Plan (or lack thereof)

by kitsunequeen



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, because that ending killed me, takes place after 1x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Connor, right?"</p><p>Connor stops in his tracks, turning back to look at muscly, spatula-wielding, boxer-wearing whatever-his-name-is, who’s probably a thousand times better for Oliver than he could ever be.</p><p>"Hey I- don’t wanna cause any trouble."</p><p>He can’t. He won’t. He’s not going to start something with this guy, not going to interfere when Oliver finally has someone who’s good for him. Who probably takes care of him, who makes him dinner while he showers, who probably does the crossword with him, or whatever it is normal couples do. He won’t try to take that away.</p><p>At least that's what he tells himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Plan (or lack thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first htgawm fic, so hopefully you guys like it!

"Connor, right?"

Connor stops in his tracks, turning back to look at muscly, spatula-wielding, boxer-wearing whatever-his-name-is, who’s probably a thousand times better for Oliver than he could ever be.

"Hey I- don’t wanna cause any trouble."

He can’t. He won’t. He’s not going to start something with this guy, not going to interfere when Oliver finally has someone who’s good for him. Who probably takes care of him, who makes him dinner while he showers, who probably does the crossword with him, or whatever it is normal couples do. He won’t try to take that away.

"Sure. Look, if you care about the guy at all… don’t ever come back here," he says, closing the door.

And this guy? He doesn’t need to worry about Connor ever coming back. Connor’ll never come back. He’ll never be good enough, and so he’ll stay away. That’s always the problem, isn’t it? He should be used to it by now. He’s not meant to be in a relationship. He's good for a one time fling; make it so the guy can never forget your name, at least leave him with that memory of you, and then you go. It’s not like he has a problem with that, either. He doesn’t  _want_  a relationship. He never has, and he never will. So he’ll never come back, for both their sakes.

At least, that’s what he tells himself till he hits the lobby.

He grinds to a stop, and spins on his heel, back towards the stairs. He earns a strange look from the doorman, but really couldn’t care less about how pathetic he must look, about to cry for the first time in forever and carrying out the flowers he’d come in with, only to turn around and head back upstairs.

 _Desperate_. The word clangs around his mind, and it’s only made worse by the fact that he is. He’s so desperate that it hurts, and- and how do people deal with this? There’s so much work and worry to be put into a relationship, it’s kind of insane. What’s even crazier is that he finds himself willing to do it all for Oliver.

When he reaches 303, it hits him again what a bad plan this is. Actually, there is no plan. What’s he gonna do, knock on the door again?  _Hi, I know you just told me to go away forty five seconds ago, and that you and Oliver are probably really happy together, but I was thinking maybe I could talk to your boyfriend- ya know, the one whose heart I broke?- about getting back together with me?_

Yep, that’d go over really well.

The fact that he’s still determined to try scares him a little.

He resigns himself to at least wait for Oliver to get out of the shower, so they can actually have a chance to talk. He slides down the wall till he’s sitting on the floor. In the twenty minutes he’s there, he gets up to leave four times-never making it further than the second floor-, throws out the flowers twice only to retrieve them moments later, and forces himself not to text Oliver six times. He needs to do this in person, and he needs to do it tonight.

At 8:27 he figures he’s waited long enough, and forces himself to stand and walk back to the door. His knuckles tremble impressively as they move impossibly slowly towards the door, finally reaching it and giving a quiet knock. The little noise that had been coming from the apartment stops, and it’s silent for a painstaking moment, as though those inside are trying to decide whether they’d both imagined the sound. Connor makes himself reach out again, a little louder this time.

_Knock knock knock._

It’s silent again, then there’s footsteps, and while Connor knows it only takes around ten seconds to reach the front door from any part of the apartment, the wait seems like a thousand years. Once more he considers bolting, and maybe he would’ve, if his entire body didn’t feel like lead.

The door swings open to reveal Oliver, hair damp and pajamas hanging loosely. Connor half wishes that spatula man was back, telling him to leave and never, ever come back, maybe shoving him this time, or full on slamming the door in his face. Maybe that would get the message to his brain. His stupid, pathetic, desperate,  _clingy, needy-_

"Connor?" Oliver’s voice is tentative, confused, as though he hadn’t expected to see Connor ever again. He probably hadn’t.

"Hey Oli- hi. I," he laughs then, but not out of any sort of amusement. "I- nevermind. I’ll just go. This was really stupid. Like even Millstone’s probably never done something this stupid," he puts on his trademark, self-assured smirk, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. Like it had been a spur of the moment decision to swing by, like the flowers in his hand mean absolutely nothing, like he isn’t about to have a breakdown over seeing Oliver with this other guy when it shouldn’t even  _matter_.

"David?" Oliver asks, and Connor has the strangest moment of thinking he screwed up his name, and perhaps that’s how Julian felt earlier, when the guy on the couch answers,

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind rescheduling? Tomorrow night maybe?"

“‘Course, Oliver.”

The guy- David, apparently- stands and walks to the door. “Call me if you need anything.” He slides past Connor and adds, “Be good to him,” and Connor doesn’t even realize the man is talking to him till he’s closing the door of the apartment across the hall behind him.

"You wanna come in?" Oliver asks, and the tone of his voice is indecipherable.

Connor finds himself unable to do anything but nod and take a step forward, and Oliver gently shuts the door behind him.

"You can-" Oliver says, waving a hand at the couch. Connor sits, and Oliver takes a seat on the next cushion. Connor notes how he carefully makes sure he’s not infringing on Connor’s cushion, but tries not to look upset by it.

"Those flowers?"

"Yeah I uh- I figured I’d, ya know, get some flowers. For- for you." He sticks them out and thinks Oliver smiles for the tiniest moment as he takes them and lays them on the table. He’s probably wrong.

"Thanks."

He’s being so short, and Connor, for the thousandth time, thinks of what a bad idea this is. “Yeah, not a problem.” Not a problem? What’s the matter with him? “Look, I can just go, if you want. Like I said this is- this was a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking showing up here anyway.” He starts to get up when Oliver puts a hand on his wrist, effectively holding him to the couch with the smallest touch. Again, Connor can’t believe the kind of power this guy has over him, in the way no one has before.

"What’re you doing to me?" Connor groans, rubbing his fists in his eyes in frustration.

"What am I doing?"

"This," he says, flapping a hand at himself.

Oliver has to admit, he does look kinda wrecked; frustrated and sad and guilty and  _not Connor._  Before he has a chance to say anything, Connor continues, "I don’t know how you do it. No one has ever been able to before."

"Do what?"

"Make it matter. And with you it’s like- it’s like it just  _matters_. I ran into some guy I was with once, and I didn’t even remember his name. But you? God, Oliver, do you know what I’ve even been doing lately? I was supposed to be working on a case with Wes and Asher, and instead I spent the entire time half-drunk, asking some random girl in a bar for relationship advice.”

Oliver feels like Connor had just tumbled into rambling, and if he stopped for a second to listen to what he was saying, he’d probably stop himself. These aren’t Connor Walsh things to say, but they’re rare, and maybe it makes him a terrible person, but Oliver’s not about to stop him.

"I was checking up on you online just so I could feel like we had some chance. I went out and bought fucking  _flowers_. Like that’s gonna fix things. And then, being my massive douche-y self, I show up here, where you’re already with your hot new boyfriend, who’s clearly incredible just for letting me talk to you in the first place. I mean, he took a rain check on your date just so we can have this conversation that I shouldn’t even be having and-“

"He’s not my boyfriend."

Of all the things Oliver could’ve responded to, that wasn’t the one Connor had expected him to go with. He pulls his face from his hands, and is slightly taken aback by the way Oliver’s face has softened.

"We went to college together, and he dropped by to see how I’ve been lately. Guess I’ve looked kinda mopey in the halls lately." He offers a small smile, and it’s ridiculous that it makes Connor a little excited.

"He was making you dinner… in his boxers."

That’s so deeply beyond the point right now, but Connor’s brain is still trying to make sure it’s properly understanding the very important fact here: Oliver is not dating that guy.

Oliver shrugs. “We were roommates. It doesn’t really matter.”

"Right."

They’re both silent for a while, till Connor finally says, “So are you dating… anyone?”[  
](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2590988/edit#)

Oliver shakes his head, then picks up the flowers and says, “Guess these mean you aren’t either?” with another damn  _smile_ , and Connor can’t help but give a little smile in return.

"So," Oliver says slowly, and his grin spreads across his face. "You asked someone for relationship advice?"

"I-" Connor huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah, actually. I did."

"So what do you wanna do first then?"

"What?" Connor asks, not quite sure where he’s taking it.

"You know… meet my mother? Or change our relationship status on Facebook?"

Connor full on snorts at that, and the fact that he’s not even embarrassed by it says a lot about being with Oliver. "I was thinking we could start with a crossword."

Then they’re both laughing and Oliver seems to forget his invisible boundary, and their shoulders knock together and they laugh harder and it’s  _great_. Then Connor knows, they both know, everything might not be okay right away, but they would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading:) Comments and kudos are always appreciated<3  
> Visit me on tumblr at stilesbansheequeen!


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